The Awakening dp-2

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The Awakening dp-2 Page 22

by Kelley Armstrong


  Another slow scan of the woods, then he shook his head and resumed walking.

  “What was it?” I asked.

  “Voices, but they’re far off. Probably whoever had that campfire.”

  Despite the dismissal, he slowed every few steps to listen.

  “Are you sure it’s okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Should I be quiet?”

  “We’re fine.”

  After another few strides, I cleared my throat. “About the other night. When I said I didn’t know that having a dead body around was a problem. Well, obviously, it happened after the bat thing so…”

  I waited for him to fill in the blank, but he kept walking.

  “I knew it was a problem,” I went on. “I knew I should say so. I just didn’t want to…overreact, I guess. When I raised that man, I wanted to admit it, about the bats, but…”

  “You didn’t need me telling you you’d done something stupid when you already knew it.” He pulled back a low branch for us. “Yeah, you need to be more careful. We all do. But you don’t need me making it worse by getting on your case. I know that.”

  He looked at me for a moment, then his nostrils flared and his face lifted to catch the breeze. He waved for us to turn left. “And about me not figuring out I was ready to start Changing? I lied. With the itching and the fever and the muscle spasms, I knew that’s what it had to mean. I just…Same as you, I didn’t want to overreact and freak out Simon. I figured I could handle it.”

  “We all need to be careful. Especially now, knowing what they did, the…”

  I trailed off, feeling the now familiar bubble of rising panic, that part of me that couldn’t stop reading those words. Genetic modification. Uncontrollable powers. How bad it would get, how far it would go, how—?

  “Chloe?”

  I bumped into his arm and saw that he’d stopped, and was looking down at me.

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said, his voice soft. “We’ll handle it.”

  I glanced away. I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered. Derek put his fingers on my chin and turned me to face him again.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  He looked down at me, fingers still on my chin, face over mine. Then he let his hand fall and turned away with a gruff, “There’s something over here.”

  It took me a moment to follow. When I did, I found him crouched beside a dead bird.

  “Is this better?” he asked.

  I bent. The corpse looked so normal that it seemed to be only sleeping. My conscience could live with temporarily returning the spirit to this body. I started to kneel, then leaped up.

  “It’s not dead.”

  “Sure it is.” He nudged it with his toe.

  “No, it’s mov—” A maggot crawled from under the bird’s wing and I stumbled back. “Could we get one without hitchhikers?”

  Derek shook his head. “Either it’s going to be like this, with maggots, or too decomposed for maggots.” He bent to peer at it. “They’re first stage blowfly larvae, meaning the bird hasn’t been dead more than—” His cheeks flushed and his voice lowered another octave. “And that’s more than you need to know, isn’t it?”

  “Right, you did a science fair project on this, didn’t you?” When he looked up sharply, I said, “Simon told me about it when I was checking out that corpse in the abandoned building. He said not to mention it to you, though, because you only came in second.”

  He grunted. “Yeah. I’m not saying mine was the best, but it was better than the winner’s, some eco-fuel crap.” He paused. “That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with stuff like that, but the kid used junk science. Got the environmental vote. I won the people’s choice award, though.”

  “Because, apparently, people are more interested in checking out maggoty dead things than saving the environment.”

  A short laugh. “Guess so.”

  “Back to this particular maggoty dead thing…I guess I should get to work, trying to make it undead.”

  I knelt beside it.

  “We’ll start with—” Derek began.

  He stopped when I opened my eyes.

  “Shut up, right?” he said. “I was going to make some suggestions for a, uh, testing regimen, but I guess you can do that.”

  “Having only the faintest clue what a testing regimen is, I’ll save myself the embarrassment and graciously turn that part over to you. When it comes to the summoning, though…”

  “Shut up and let you work.” He sat cross-legged. “You said with the bats, you were summoning a ghost you couldn’t see. So it was kind of a general summoning. You should start by doing a specific one. That’ll tell us whether you still raise a nearby animal if you’re trying to raise a specific person.”

  “Got it. I’ll try Liz.”

  I figured if we were being all scientific about this, I should use some kind of control measures. I’d start with the lowest “power setting”—just mentally saying “Hey, Liz, are you there?” I did that, then checked the bird. No response.

  I pictured Liz and called again. Nothing. I imagined pulling Liz through. Nothing. I tried harder, still clearly focusing on her image. I kept checking the bird and kept looking—hoping—for any sign of Liz herself.

  “How hard should I try?” I asked.

  “As hard as you can.”

  I thought of what the demi-demon had said about raising zombies in a cemetery two miles away. I was sure she’d been exaggerating. And yet…

  “Try as hard as you’re comfortable with,” Derek said when I hesitated. “We can always do more another time.”

  I ramped it up a little. Then a little more. I was closing my eyes after checking the bird again when Derek said, “Stop.”

  My eyes flew open. The bird’s wing was twitching. I stood and moved toward it.

  “It could just be the maggots,” he said. “Hold on.”

  He got up, took a branch and was reaching it toward the bird when his chin shot up. His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

  “Der—?”

  A distant crack cut me off. He lunged and hit me in a football tackle. I toppled over. Something stung my upper arm right above the bandages, then whizzed past as we dropped. It hit the ground behind us with a thwack and a geyser of dirt. Derek quickly lifted off me, but stayed over me, like a shield…or more likely making sure I didn’t jump up. He glanced over his shoulder.

  “You okay?” he asked. As he turned to me, his nostrils flared again. “You’re hurt.”

  He plucked my sleeve. There was a hole clear through a fold in it.

  “I think they shot a dart,” I said. “It grazed me. It landed over—”

  He’d already found the spot. What he dug out, though, wasn’t a tranquilizer dart.

  Forty

  AS DEREK HELD UP the bullet, my heart slammed against my chest. I took a deep breath and pushed aside thoughts of the Edison Group.

  “Are we on Andrew’s property?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “But it could still be hunters.”

  Another nod. He shifted off me and surveyed the forest. All was quiet.

  “Crawl that way,” he whispered, “into the thicker bushes. I’ll get closer and take a look—”

  The long grass at our feet erupted. Derek threw himself over me again with a whispered “Stay down!” like I had a choice, with a two-hundred-pound guy over me.

  A horrible squawking echoed through the forest, and we looked down to see the dead bird on its feet, wings drumming the ground. I’ll point out, with some satisfaction, that I wasn’t the only one who jumped.

  Derek scrambled off me. “Release—”

  “I know.”

  I crawled to the other side of the clearing, far enough that I didn’t need to worry about the bird trying to jump on me.

  “Hear that?” a voice called between the bird’s cries.

  As the bird screamed, I concentrated on releasing its spirit, but all I could think w
as Shut it up. Shut it up! Another crack. We both hit the ground. A bullet zoomed over our heads, hitting a tree trunk in a rain of bark.

  Still lying on my stomach, I closed my eyes. Derek grabbed my arm.

  “I’m trying,” I said. “Just give me—”

  “Forget it. Come on.”

  He propelled me forward, hunched over, moving fast. Behind us, the bird continued to scream, covering the sound of our retreat. When it stopped, we did. I could hear something thrashing in the undergrowth—the bird or our pursuers, I couldn’t tell. After a moment, the bird started again, its cries taking on an edge of panic that made my skin crawl.

  I closed my eyes to release it.

  “Not yet,” Derek said.

  He led me farther, until we found a cluster of bushes. We managed to get into the middle of them and hunkered down. The bird’s cries subsided, but I could hear it moving.

  “What the—?”

  It was a man’s voice, cut off by a pfft that anyone who watches crime movies recognizes as the sound of a silenced gun. I was pretty sure they didn’t make silencers for hunting rifles…and that hunters didn’t carry sidearms.

  The bird’s cries got louder. And the man’s curses got louder still. A couple more silenced shots, then a crack, like he’d tried the rifle, too. The bird’s screams turned to an awful gurgling.

  “Jesus, what is that thing? I practically blew its head off and it’s still alive.”

  Another man answered with a harsh laugh. “Well, I guess that answers our question, doesn’t it? The Saunders girl found those boys.”

  I glanced at Derek, but his gaze was fixed straight ahead, in the direction of the voice. I closed my eyes and focused on the bird. After a moment, those pathetic sounds finally stopped.

  When another squawk came, I squeezed my eyes shut, certain it meant I hadn’t released the bird’s spirit after all. But it was only a radio. Derek strained to listen. I couldn’t catch most of what was said, just enough to confirm that these men were indeed an Edison Group security team.

  They’d found us. And they weren’t bothering with tranquilizer darts anymore. Why would they? We were dangerous experimental subjects who’d escaped twice. Now they didn’t need an excuse to do what they’d have been happy to do all along: abandon rehabilitation and “remove” us from their study. The only one who might have fought to keep me alive was Aunt Lauren, a traitor. Easier to kill us here and bury the bodies, far from Buffalo.

  “Simon!” I hissed. “We need to warn him and—”

  “I know. The house is through there. We’ll circle.”

  “But we can’t go back to the house. That’s the first place they’ll go, if they aren’t there already.”

  His eyes dipped away, his jaw setting.

  “I—I guess we have to try, don’t we?” I said. “Okay, if we’re careful—”

  “No, you’re right,” he said. “I’ll go. You wait here.”

  I grabbed the back of his coat as he crawled forward. “You can’t—”

  “I need to warn Simon.”

  “I’ll come—”

  “No, you stay here.” He started turning, then stopped. “Better yet, get farther away. There’s a road about a half mile north.” He pointed. “You can’t miss it. It’s an easy walk—Simon and I used to do it all the time. When I give the signal, take off. Get to the road and hide. I’ll find you there.”

  He started walking away. I wanted to argue, but knew there was no use—nothing would stop him from going back for Simon. And he was right not to want me along. I’d only be one more person to protect. Best to wait for his signal and—

  Derek’s earsplitting whistle cut through the night. Then he whistled again, and a third time and I knew that’s what he’d meant by “signal,” not just for me, but for Simon, trying to wake him up.

  It was loud enough to wake everyone up—and to tell the whole security team exactly where—

  The thought stuttered in my head. Then I started cursing him, mentally calling him every name I could think of, including a few I didn’t realize I knew.

  He knew his whistles would draw the attention of the entire Edison Group team. That’s why he’d done it, rather than something subtle like throwing stones at Simon’s window. He was drawing their attention to himself, giving Simon and me a chance to get away.

  I wanted to scream at him. Those men had guns. Real guns. And they weren’t afraid to use them. If they did take his bait—

  He’ll be fine. He gave you a chance to escape. Now use it. Move!

  I forced myself out of the bushes and set out at a slow, crouching jog, picking my way over open area and avoiding the noisy undergrowth. When I heard footsteps, I glanced around for cover and, seeing none, hit the ground.

  Two figures passed just ten feet away. Both were dressed head to foot in camouflage, like army snipers. Even their hats had net screens covering their faces.

  A radio squealed, and a man’s voice came over it. “Beta team?”

  One of the two—a woman by her voice—responded.

  The man continued. “He’s over here. Head in from the east and we’ll surround—”

  A rifle shot knocked my heart into my throat. The crash of undergrowth sounded over the radio.

  “Did you get him?” the woman asked.

  “Not sure. That was Charlie team. Signing off. Get over here.”

  Another shot. More distant crashing. I was sure my heart was pounding loud enough for the two to hear, but they kept going, heading for that distant racket. Heading for Derek.

  Beta, Charlie…I’d seen enough war movies to know that meant there were at least three pairs out here. Six armed security agents. Enough to surround Derek and then—

  Just keep going. He’ll find a way out. He’s got superpowers, remember?

  None of which would help him against six trained professionals. None of which would stop a bullet.

  I waited until the two were gone, then I scanned the treetops. The last few summers at drama camp, we’d had Survivor days. In most athletic challenges, I’d been a washout, but there’d been one where being small seemed to be an advantage…that and having a few old gymnastics trophies on my shelf.

  I raced to the nearest tree with low branches, grabbed one, and tested it. If Derek swung onto it, he’d crash back to the ground, but I was able to get up and onto the next, sturdier one with the branch giving no more than a faint groan of complaint.

  I kept climbing until I was confident that the canopy of new leaves hid me. Then I got into a secure position and whistled—a thin, reedy screech that would have Derek rolling his eyes.

  What makes you think they’re even going to hear that?

  I whistled again.

  And even if they do, why bother with you? They know where Derek is. They’ll stick with him.

  The distant tramp of boots from the departing pair stopped. A murmur of voices. Then the footsteps returned my way.

  Now what are you going to do? You’d better have a plan or—

  I shushed the inner voice and gave another, softer whistle, just to be sure they heard me.

  The radio crackled.

  “Alpha? This is Beta. We think we heard the Saunders girl. She’s trying to contact Souza. Do you have him yet?”

  I strained to hear the reply but couldn’t make it out.

  “We’ll swing by and help as soon as we have her.”

  Meaning they didn’t have Derek.

  Or they have him; they just need help controlling him.

  The radio sounded again, another transmission I couldn’t make out. The woman signed off, then said to her partner, “They want you to go back and help with the boy. I can handle the Saunders girl.”

  Well, that didn’t work out so well, did it?

  The man took off. I held still as the woman began searching for me. She passed my tree by at least a dozen feet and kept going. I waited until I was sure she wasn’t going to return on her own, then knocked my foot against the tree trunk.

/>   She turned. For a moment, she just stood there, shining her flashlight beam in a full circle. I prepared to knock again, if she walked away, but she headed toward me, moving slowly, beam skimming the ground, pausing at every bush or clump of tall grass.

  When she walked under my tree, I tightened my hold and flattened myself against the branch. As I moved the foot I’d kicked with, it brushed the tree trunk. A chunk of bark fell at the woman’s feet.

  She shone the beam down at it.

  Please, don’t. Please, please—

  The flashlight beam swung up into the branches.

  I dropped. I didn’t think about the stupidity of dropping onto an armed woman probably twice my size. I just let go and rolled off the branch, that inner voice screaming What are you doing?!… in far less polite language.

  I hit the woman. We both went down, her cushioning my fall. I leaped up, ignoring the squeaks of protest from my jolted body. I yanked out my knife and—

  The woman lay at the foot of the tree, her head a few inches from it. She had a net veil hanging from her hat but through it I could see that her eyes were closed, and her mouth lolled open. She must have hit the trunk and been knocked out. I resisted the urge to check, grabbed her radio, and spun, searching for the gun. It wasn’t there. No rifle and no pistol…or not one I could see. I took a good look around to see if she’d dropped it. Nothing.

  Either her partner had it or she had one hidden under her jacket. I paused, wanting to check, but was afraid of rousing her. One last look, then I snatched up the fallen flashlight and ran.

  Forty-one

  I WAS SURE I was heading in the direction Derek told me, so all the security teams should be behind me. But after less than a minute, I heard the tramp of boots again. I dropped and covered my radio. I turned the volume all the way down, even though it had been silent since I’d taken it.

  I crawled into the nearest patch of brush and lay on my stomach. The footsteps seemed to be going parallel to me, neither approaching nor retreating.

  “Tell me how a full squad of us can lose four teenagers in less than twenty acres of woods,” a man’s voice said. “Davidoff is not going to be happy.”

  Another man answered, “With any luck, he’ll never find out. We’ve still got an hour before daylight. Plenty of time. How far can they get?”

 

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